kerkvliet beyond patron client

Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 26, 2 (September 1995): 401-419® 1995 by National University of Singapore

Toward a More Comprehensive Analysis ofPhilippine Politics: Beyond the Patron-Client,Factional Framework

BENEDICT J. TRIA KERKVLIETAustralian National University

Introduction

Thirty years ago, a theory of Philippine politics emerged that until now remains themost influential among academics and is widely adopted by journalists, diplomats andother observers of the Philippines. Its argument, in brief, is that Philippine politicsrevolves around interpersonal relationships — especially familial and patron-client ones— and factions composed of personal alliances. I refer to this as the patron-client,factional framework (pcf, for short). It deserves to be influential; after all, patron-client and other personal relations are indeed significant in Philippine political life.These are also important features in many other countries; hence, the pcf frameworkdeveloped for Philippine studies has contributed as well to comparative political studies.

A serious problem with the framework, however, is that it leaves out and obscuresa great deal about Philippine politics. Moreover, the framework is so routinely usedby scholars and other observers that it has become reified to the point that it itselfhas almost become Philippine politics, rather than being a useful perspective or inter-pretation for making sense of aspects of political life. Two other interpretations ofPhilippine politics, which I refer to as dependency and elite democracy, bring in featuresof the country's political life that pcf misses. Yet they too omit much that is vital, andthey share with the framework an emphasis on personal and patron-client relations.

My central objection is that the pcf framework minimizes, even dismisses values andideas, bases for organization and cooperation, and cleavages and frictions except thoseof a personal, familial, patron-client nature. Because other values, ideas, organizations,and conflicts are marginalized and deemed unimportant, Philippine politics and itssociety and culture generally are portrayed in a overly simplistic, untextured manner.And Filipinos for whom other dimensions do in fact matter are similarly reduced tomere caricatures of their fuller, more complicated selves. The main point I want tomake is that the dominant, pcf framework is inadequate, as are the available alter-natives. After elaborating what pcf is and what alternatives add, 111 look at elections— where pcf is supposed to be most applicable — then at a few other realms in thepolitical landscape: politicians, political movements, and everyday politics.

Patron-client Relations and Factions

Mary Hollnsteiner, while trying to make sense of elections and related politicalevents in a municipality in Luzon province, came to focus on family, kinship, and

I am grateful for comments on earlier versions from two anonymous readers for the Journal of SoutheastAsian Studies and from Carl Lande, Melinda Tria Kerkvliet and Bruce Cruikshank.

401

402 Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet

patron-client relations, which were the elements in rival factions and cliques.1 CarlLande, while trying to figure out the political party system in the Philippines, arrivedat the same relationships within Philippine society:

. . . the Philippine polity . . . is structured less by organized interest groups or byindividuals who in politics think of themselves as members of categories, i.e., ofdistinctive social classes or occupations, than by a network of mutual aid relation-ships between pairs of individuals ("dyadic" ties . . . ) . To a large extent the dyadicties with significance for Philippine politics are vertical ones, i.e., bonds betweenprosperous patrons and their poor and dependent clients.2

Patron-client relations, kinship networks, other personal followings, then, are basicunits within political activity and organizations. They, in turn, compose "factions", theother important building block in political organizations, beginning at the local level.Typically, a local faction

. . . is a loose combination of a number of . . . family constellations with a ratherlarge and prosperous family constellation at its core and smaller or less prosperousones at its periphery. Within each family constellation a strong web of kinship tiesbinds related families together into a cohesive group. Between the allied constella-tions of a faction, a smaller number of dyadic ties - more commonly ties ofmarriage, compadre ties, or ties of patronship and clientship rather than ties ofblood — create a lesser bond. Family constellations work in alliance with oneanother for varying periods of time due to the need to create combinations largeenough to compete with some prospect of success in local elections or in othercommunity prestige contests.3

Alliances among families, patron-client clusters, and other personal followings areloose, unstable, and often shifting, as are alliances among factions themselves.4

Political parties are essentially composed of numerous alliances among these fac-tions composed of families and patron-client networks. Which families and factionsare in which faction and party fluctuates considerably, as do the number of parties(two major ones from 1946 until martial law in 1972, but also several minority parties;one major party during martial law until the early 1980s; and since then severalparties, which gradually seem to be coalescing into a couple of main ones). But theirelements — those constellations of personal relations — and their fluid nature persists.During elections, parties per se provide a label for candidates to run under. Candidatesrely heavily on their own social networks, weaving together cascading tiers of clientsupporters and supplemented where necessary with money, material incentives, and

'Mary R. Hollnsteiner, The Dynamics of Power in a Philippine Municipality (Quezon City: CommunityDevelopment Research Center, University of the Philippines, 1963).

2Carl Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties: The Structure of Philippine Politics (New Haven: South-east Asia Studies, Yale University, 1965), p. 1.

3Ibid., p. 17.4Hollnsteiner, Dynamics of Power, Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties; Onofre Corpuz, The Philip-

pines (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1965), p. 97; Remigio E. Agpalo, The Political Elite and thePeople: A Study of Politics in Occidental Mindoro (Manila: College of Public Administration, Universityof the Philippines, 1972).

Beyond the Patron-Client, Factional Framework 403

promises. Local leaders tug on the lines of their clientelistic followings, hauling in votesfor candidates for whom they in turn are clients themselves.5

Since Hollnsteiner and Lande's early work, the principal modification to this pcfframework is scholarship to explain the emergence of political machines. Personal net-works, while vital for stitching factions together, are insufficient and inefficient forwinning offices in large electorates. For that reason, "political machines" becameapparent in the 1950s-1960s, fell on hard times during the Marcos years when hismachine was the only game in the country, but have been resuscitated since the mid-1980s.6 They are run by the politically skilled leaders of elite families as well as by"new men" from less wealthy and less well known family backgrounds who had therequired savvy for the age of mass electoral politics.7 In order to compete for votes,scholars argue, personal connections are argumented with political machines that pro-vide immediate material rewards and inducements — not necessarily to voters directly,though there is evidence of that, but more often to key players in the provinces andmunicipalities who get their followers to vote for the machine's candidates.

Machine politics has brought out more clearly the importance of money in Philip-pine politics, especially during elections. The pcf framework allows that monetaryinducements to support or oppose particular candidates or factions are sometimesgiven.8 Elections that are battles between large political machines require politiciansto come up with vast financial resources in order to stay in the game. This imperative,in turn, encourages politicians to concentrate on pork barrel programmes to curryfavour with voters, to use public funds to finance their political machines, and toresort to other illegal practices.

Politics, defined broadly, comprises the activities in which people, groups, andorganizations engage in order to control, allocate, and use resources; politics also in-cludes the values and ideas underlying those activities.9 According to the pcf frame-work, the underlying values and ideas in Philippine politics are largely if not exclusively

5Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Politics; Carl Lande and Allan Cigler, "Social Cleavage and PoliticalParties in the Post-Marcos Philippines", Final Report for the U.S. Department of State's External ResearchProgram and the University of Kansas, 1990, pp. 38-40; Agpalo, Political Elite and the People; Hollnsteiner,Dynamics of Power, Hirofumi Ando, "Elections in the Philippines: Mass-Elite Interaction Through theElectoral Process, 1946-1969" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1971), ch. 6; Arthur Shantz, "PoliticalParties: The Changing Foundations of Philippine Democracy" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1972),ch. 3.

^ h e revival of rival political machines since the demise of Marcos's is often cited in news coverage andcommentary in the Philippines and abroad. For instance, see Conrado de Quiros, "A Triumph, Yes — butof What", Philippine Daily Inquirer (16 May 1992): 5; Far Eastern Economic Review (19 March 1992): 22-30.

7The term "new men" is from Kit Machado, who has done the most work on the evolution of Philip-pine political machines. K.G. Machado, "Changing Aspects of Factionalism in Philippine Local Politics",Asian Survey 11 (December): 1182-99; K.G. Machado, "Leadership and Organization in Philippine LocalPolitics" (Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 1972); K.G. Machado, "Changing Patterns of LeadershipRecruitment and the Emergence of the Professional Politician in Philippine Local Politics", in PoliticalChange in the Philippines: Studies of Local Politics Preceding Martial Law, ed. Benedict J. Kerkvliet (Honolulu:Asian Studies at Hawaii, University Press of Hawaii, 1974), pp. 77-129.

8For instance, see Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, pp. 62, 68, 79, 115.'Adrian Leftwich, "Politics: People, Resources, and Power", in What is Politics!, ed. Adrian Leftwich

(Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1984), pp. 64-65; Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics in the Philippines:Class and Status Relations in a Central Luzon Village (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p. 11.


in the realm of personal attachments and animosities, personal allies and enemies,personal interests and those individuals with whom one has a personal relationship.Political struggle is about trying to gain access to and maintain control over resourcesin order to advance one's following and personal associations, while undermining anddenying resources to rival individuals and factions. Cleavages are between people withdifferent personal ambitions and interests. Organizations are built on connections,personal relationships and mutual self interest. In short, the framework leaves little orno room for other values and ideas, other bases for cleavage and struggle, othergrounds for organizing and cooperating.

Because of pervasive familial, patron-client, factional politics, according to the pcfframework, personal rivalries and ambitions determine Philippine political activity.Issues and concerns beyond individual and familial ones are of little or no importance,and no ideological positions or principals are at stake. Also, because kinship, patron-client relations, and alliances weave together people in different socioeconomic posi-tions, relations between elite and masses, rich and poor, are symbiotic, smooth, andreciprocal.10 Struggles are between factions composed of people from various socio-economic backgrounds, not between people in different classes, status groups, or evenethnic groups.

The characteristics of Philippine politics on which the framework concentrates areparticularly pronounced during elections. For politicians the crucial thing is to winoffice. Issues, to the extent they are addressed, are only window dressing for personalambition. Politicians seek public office not to serve the public but to advance theirown personal, familial, and factional interests. And ambitious politicians use loweroffices as stepping stones to higher ones, seeking greater glory and power for them-selves and their followers. As for voters, while some may regard elections as a way toparticipate in and affect the business of government, most take an instrumentalapproach, seeing elections as an opportunity to extract money, personal favours, orother immediate returns for themselves and their families in exchange for their votes.Elections are also ways to fulfill cliental obligations, by campaigning and voting forthe candidates of one's patron and calling on family members and close friends to dothe same.

There are grounds for arguing that patron-client and other relations are importantin Philippine politics. Clientelism as a basis for organizing thrives in conditions thatare still pronounced in the Philippines: great inequality, absence of impersonalguarantees for physical and economic security, and the need for personal linkagesbeyond immediate kin as part of effort to have more security." Analysts, includingmyself, point to considerable evidence for the continued prevalence of patron-clientrelations and factionalism.12 The demise of the Marcos family and cronies has beenfollowed, concludes a new study, by the "ascendancy and dominance of political

10Hollnsteiner, Dynamics of Power, pp. 86, 91; Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, pp. 10-12; Agpalo,Political Elite and the People, p. 374; and David Timberman, A Changeless Land- Continuity and Changein Philippine Politics (New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1991), pp. 23-24.

"James Scott, "Patron-Client Politics and Political Change in Southeast Asia", in Friends, Followers,and Factions: A Reader in Political Clientelism, ed. Steffen Schmidt, et al. (Berkeley: University of Califor-nia Press, 1977), p. 132.

12Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics, ch. 7.


clans "B A recent analysis of politics in southern Mindanao during the 1970s findsthe pcf framework still relevant for "laying bare the structural principles underlyingboth " politics and everyday life, the nexus of which is the political family.14

Another social scientist emphasizes the still "enduring aspects" of Philippine cultureand values, which include "the primacy of kinship, the influence of particularism andpersonalism, the importance of reciprocity and patron-client relations, the emphasison smooth-interpersonal relations, and the pervasive poverty on values and behaviour".

And these in turn, he says, strongly shape Philippine politics. In particular, the"exclusiveness of the Filipino family, the importance of patron-client ties, and thestrength of regional and linguistic affinities cause Filipino politics and governance tobe highly personalist and particularistic".15 But are the values and so forth identifiedthrough the pcf framework the only important values and ideas, cleavages, and typesof organizations in Philippine politics?

Other Approaches

Two additional approaches acknowledge the importance of patron-client and otherpersonal politics in the Philippines but find the pcf framework inadequate to accountfor other prominent phenomena. The "elite democracy" approach says we must alsounderstand the role of violence, coercion, intimidation, monetary inducements, andthe considerable autonomy elites have to manipulate formal democratic procedures totheir liking. The "neocolonial" or "dependency" argument emphasizes the influence,even control of foreign interests over Philippine politics.

Elections are frequently more violent and vicious than the image of placid andtranquil alliance switching in a pcf framework conveys. Acknowledging and explainingthis arid the routine violation of formal procedures are major differences between thepcf approach and the elite democracy interpretation of Philippine politics, which holdsthat the political system is essentially one in which elites use connections, wealth, andphysical force to control the country's resources. Public offices are sources for personalfortune. The higher the office, the more lucrative the returns for one's family andallies, though officials in prosperous provinces and cities can also do very well. Con-sequently, elections are devices for political elites to sort out who will feast in thepublic larder for a term or two, and a way to make the masses feel a part of some-thing from which they are actually shut out.16

13Eric Gutierrez, et ai, All in the Family: A Study of Elites and Power Relations in the Philippines(Quezon City: Institute for Popular Democracy, 1992), p. 160.

14Jeremy Beckett, "Political Families and Family Politics among the Muslim Maguindanaon of Cotabato",in An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines, ed. Alfred McCoy (Madison: Center forSoutheast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin, 1993), p. 286.

"Timberman, Changeless Land, pp. 15-16, 22.''Benedict Anderson, "Cacique Democracy in the Philippines: Origins and Dreams", New Left Review

169 (1988): 3-31; Paul Hutchcroft, "Oligarchs and Cronies in the Philippine State: The Politics of PatrimonialPlunder", World Politics 43 (April 1991): 414-50; A.R. Magno, Power Without Form: Essays on the FilipinoState and Politics (Manila: Kalikasan Press, 1990), pp. 70-92, 98-99; John Thayer Sidel, "Beyond Patron-Client Relations: Warlordism and Local Politics in the Philippines", Kasarinlan 4 (1st Quarter 1989): 19-30.Also see Arthur Williams' dissertation which argues that if indeed patron-client relations were central tothe system, far more resources would have trickled down to rural voters. Instead, most of money to whichpoliticians had access, legally and illegally, stayed with them and within limited, elite circles [ArthurWilliams, "Center, Bureaucracy, and Locality: Central-Local Relations in the Philippines" (Ph.D. diss.,Cornell University, 1981), pp. 50ff.].


Analysts within an elite democracy school are not alone in drawing attention to can-didates and their minions who tamper with voting procedures, intimidate voters, andemploy violent tactics. It is widely known that many politicians have bodyguards, andmany have their own armies, which were dismantled or went underground during the1970s martial law years but have since been revived. Some elites also use, when theycan, the Philippine Constabulary, Army, police forces, and other institutions of thestate in order to attain and retain public office. Whereas scholars working within thepcf framework find that violence and fraud are unusual and rarely affect outcomes,other analysts argue that such nefarious methods have long been prominent featuresof electoral politics.17 Negros Occidental, the Ilocos region, Cebu, and Marawi areamong those parts of the country where endemic violence between rival candidatesand their supporters has been reported.18 Many scholars have argued that the 1949national election was very likely "won" by Quirino by means of padded electoral roles,fraudulent tallies, threats, and widespread physical violence."

The neocolonial, dependency interpretation agrees with much of the elite democracyargument and acknowledges the importance of patron-client and factional politics. Butwhereas the elite democracy argument sees Filipino elites as able to manipulate foreigninterests to their own advantage, the dependency school sees foreign businesses andAmerican military interests dominating much of the Philippines, including the elites,who are in effect their clients.

Neither of these additional views, however, brings in enough of the values, methodsand motivations in the Philippine political landscape. The dependency approachallows for little Filipino initiative and tends to be mechanistic. The elite democracyinterpretation is largely a sophisticated elaboration of the "guns, goons, and gold"view of Philippine politics, which is inadequate.

"Contrast, for instance, Carl Landed Southern Tagalog Voting, 1946-1963: Political Behaviour in aPhilippine Region (Dekalb: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University, 1973), especiallyp. 99 and Shantz, "Political Parties", pp. 145, 244, 286-89 with Alfred McCoy, "Quezon's Commonwealth:The Emergence of Philippine Authoritarianism", in Philippine Colonial Democracy, ed. Ruby R. Paredes(Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1989), p. 131 and Eugene Gibbs, "Family and Politics:A study of a Filipino Middle Class Family" (Ph.D. diss., Claremont Graduate School, 1971), p. 127.

18For Cebu see Resil Mojares, "Political Change in a Rural District in Cebu Province", in From Marcosto Aquino: Local Perspectives on Political Thansition in the Philippines, ed. Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet andResil Mojares (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1991), pp. 59-81; for Marawi, see Carter Bentley,"People Power and After in the Islamic City of Marawi", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 36-58; forNegros Occidental before and after the Marcos years, see Alfred McCoy, "The Restoration of PlanterPower in La Carlota City", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 105-142. Jorge Coquia writes that the governorof Negros Occidental in the late 1940s and early 1950s financed his notorious private army from gamblingdens sponsored by municipal mayors who collected protection money (tong) for the purpose. When unitsof the Philippine Army were sent there to police the polls in the 1951 elections, they were surprised to findthat this "private army" was better equipped than they were [Jorge R. Coquia, The Philippine PresidentialElection of 1953 (Manila: Philippine Education Foundation, 1955), pp. 37-38].

19See, for example, David Wurfel, Filipino Politics Development and Decay (Ithaca: Cornell UniversityPress, 1988), p. 37; Benedict J. Kerkvliet, The Huk Rebellion: A Study of Peasant Revolt in the Philippines(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), p. 205; Mark Thompson, Democratic Opposition to Sultan-istic Rule: The Anti-Marcos Struggle and the Thoubles Transition in the Philippines (New Haven: YaleUniversity Press, forthcoming); Coquia, Philippine Presidential Election, pp. 35-37, 111-14; and Frances L.Starner, Magsaysay and the Philippine Peasantry (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1961), pp. 60,65-66, 252. Also see reports in the Manila Chronicle, September-November 1949.


Both, however, do go beyond personal relationships. Neocolonial ambitions clashwith nationalistic aspirations; landed elites have interests in common that supersedetheir factional differences; and local elites are at odds with central authorities.

Motivations, obligations, and interests beyond, or in addition to, familial and narrowpersonal ones are widely manifested in Philippine political life. They include interestsand values connected to class, status, ethnic, regional, local, and cultural identitiesthat could figure in people's political activity. Another dimension, which may overlapwith the former, encompasses ideas and ideals associated with ideologies like demo-cracy, capitalism, communism, Marxism, Christianity, Islam, as well as less definedsets of ideals about how social, economic, and political life should or should not beorganized. There is considerable evidence for these additional values and ideas, basesof organization, and cleavages in many political spheres. I am not arguing that thevalues and motivations emphasized by a pcf framework are absent; but I am sayingthat others are also important.

In recent years two studies of national politics have tried to encompass a fullerrange of ideas, organizational bases, and cleavages than the pcf, elite democracy, ordependency approaches can handle individually. One is David Wurfel's book.20 Inplaces Wurfel uses a pcf approach, but the study also includes the politics of socio-economic interests, in the form of peasant organizations, student groups, middle classorganizations, and so forth. And in realm of ideas important to political activity,Wurfel discusses not only personal and familial loyalties and the like but also capital-ism, Marxism, democratic values and liberation theology. The second is a bookmanuscript by Mark Thompson, who more self consciously than Wurfel steps outsidepcf analysis.21 While he finds the framework useful, he also says it is too limiting.Like those who use elite democracy arguments, he says the pcf approach does notaccount for violence and other unsavoury aspects of Philippine politics. But goingbeyond both approaches, Thompson argues that important to understanding politicsin the Philippines are "moral appeals" to people's desires for freedom, democracy,and ethical public servants, and appeals to people's feelings of pity, empathy, andcompassion.

The additional features of Philippine politics that Wurfel and Thompson bring intofocus are the kind that I also want to include in a more comprehensive analysis. Theremainder of the paper will elaborate.

Elections

Election campaigns are, indeed, often built around personalities: their networks andalliances, and political machines greased by patronage. Patron-client ties and factionalaffiliations, however, do not provide the only or even the most important motivationsfor people to vote for one candidate rather than another. For example, Filipinos oftensupport candidates who come from their own region or speak their native language.22

l, Filipino Politics.21Thompson, Democratic Opposition to Sultanistic Rule.^Ando, "Elections in the Philippines", pp. 77-80; Lande, Southern Tagalog Voting, p. 98; Lande and

Cigler, "Social Cleavage and Political Parties", pp. 38-41.


Arguably, though, these considerations are complex manifestation of allegiances andvalues going back to the primacy of family ties in Philippine politics.23 More difficultto explain using a pcf interpretation is evidence that a number of other considerationsinfluence the way people vote: policy matters; quality of leadership; one's perceivedinterests as a worker, tenant farmer, fisherperson, business person, student, upland resi-dent, Muslim, or as someone in other economic, ethnic, and social positions; and moralissues.24 The mix and relative importance of these considerations, along with personalones, can vary from place to place, over time, and from person to person.

Worth stressing here is that social, economic, and political issues are often signifi-cant concerns for voters and candidates. Cesar Climaco, for example, was electedmayor of Zamboanga City in 1980 largely because he ran "on an explicitly anti-Marcos,anti-Martial Law platform", a position that also helped other candidates for localgovernment in Mindanao to win that year.25 The 1970 election of delegates for the 1971Constitutional Convention was electrified by discussions of the structure of govern-ment, the Marcos administration, and US military bases, and numerous additionalissues.26

The importance of issues is not a recent development, either. Vigorous debate onissues during elections dates from at least the late 1930s when candidates for municipaloffices in central Luzon in 1937 and 1940 were deeply immersed in debates regardingagricultural tenancy, workers' conditions, social justice, Philippine-American relations,among other matters. These again became major issues in election campaigns forcongressional seats in 1946.27

Another important aspect of electoral politics that falls outside a pcf frameworkis the contending claims and views about the purpose and process of elections them-selves. This contentious issue has been a vibrant motif in electoral politics since at leastthe 1930s. While many people see and use elections to advance personal and factionalinterests and capture the spoils of public office (views summarized in the pcf frame-work) and regard elections as a battles fought with "guns, goons, and gold", otherFilipinos struggle to make elections to be about legitimacy, fairness, and democratic

^Shantz, "Political Parties", p. 275.^Cristina Blanc-Szanton, "Change and Politics in a Western Visayan Municipality", in From Marcos to

Aquino, pp. 82-104; James Eder, "Political Transition in a Palawan Farming Community", in From Marcosto Aquino, pp. 143-65; Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, "Understanding Politics in a Nueva Ecija Rural Com-munity", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 226-46; Resil Mojares, "Political Change in a Rural District inCebu Province", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 59-81; Raul Pertierra, "Community and Power in anIlokano Municipality", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 247-65; Michael Pinches, "The Working ClassExperience of Shame, Inequality and People Power in latalon, Manila", in From Marcos to Aquino,pp. 166-86; Rosanne Rutten, "Courting the Workers' Vote: Rhetoric and Response in a Philippine HaciendaRegion" (New York: Working Paper Series, New School for Social Research, 1993); Mark Turner, "PoliticsDuring the Transition in Zamboanga City, 1984-1988", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 13-35; WillemWolters, Politics, Patronage and Class Conflict in Central Luzon (The Hague: Institute of Social Studies,1983), ch. 3; Fernando Zialcita, "Perspectives on Legitimacy in Ilocos Norte", in From Marcos to Aquino,pp. 266-87.

^Turner, "Politics During the Transition", p. 15.26Wurfel, Filipino Politics, p. 109; Petronilo Daroy, "On the Eve of Dictatorship and Revolution", in

Dictatorship and Revolution: Roots of People's Power, ed. Aurora Javate-de Dios, et al. (Metro Manila:Conspectus, 1988), pp. 4, 7.

27Kerkvliet, Huk Rebellion.


processes. The latter claim that elections are or at least should be about making thecountry more democratic by following proper procedures to replace corrupt and self-centred politicians and political machines with candidates who come closer to uphold-ing democratic values and want to serve the country, not just themselves and personalcircles. One can find numerous manifestations of ordinary Filipinos struggling to assertthis second view of elections. I will refer to only a three specific cases here and thendiscuss a couple of elections in which contested meanings of elections were majorthemes.28

Before doing so, I want to mention that Lande himself has noted that people mayturn against politicians who are too free and easy with the democratic rules and pro-cedures, leaving some room for political considerations that would seem to fall outsidethe pcf framework.29 But he and others working within the framework say little moreabout such behaviour, implying it is of negligible importance, whereas I am suggestingit is central dynamic of electoral politics.

In 1969, candidates who had lost the vote tally for the congressional seat in Batanesprovince protested that the "winner" had employed armed men to terrorise and coercevoters and polling station clerks. The "winner", of course, denied the allegations; andnewspaper columnists believed him.30 When an official investigation began, eighteenBatanes teachers who had served as voting clerks stepped forward — despite threatsagainst their lives — and testified that indeed armed men had forced them to endorsefalsified tally sheets and other fraudulent voting procedures. Their testimonies andsubsequent evidence that came to light led to the criminal charges against the "winner"and the proclamation of one of the "losing" candidates as the real winner.31

In 1982 the nation held elections for barrio captains, the first in ten years and thefirst local elections since Marcos had lifted martial law the year before. Many villagersin San Ricardo (Talavera, Nueva Ecija) had long waited for this election. They hopedthe incumbent would be defeated, although they knew that he had the upper handbecause he was backed by the municipal branch of Marcos's Kilusan Bagang Lipunan(KBL) political party. Using some of this political muscle, the incumbent captainmaneuvered to prevent a potential opponent from filing candidacy papers, therebyassuring his re-election. His deed disgusted not only those who had long complainedabout his poor leadership but also numerous people who had previously supportedhim. To show their contempt, two-thirds of the registered voters either boycotted theelection or voted for the person whose candidacy had been foiled.32

In the 1988 gubernatorial election in Ilocos Norte, the reportedly very popular can-didate Rodolfo Farinas was nevertheless thought to have little chance of defeatingManuela Ablan, even though she was widely disliked in part because her family hadsmuggled in huge quantities of garlic from Taiwan, causing havoc for local garlic in-dustry. The Ablan family was expected to use its hold over certain mayors, military

^For an elaboration, see Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, "Contested Meanings of Elections in the Philippines",unpublished paper, November 1993.

29Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, p. 54.^Manila Chronicle, 25 Nov. 1969, p. 15; 28 Nov. 1969, p. 18.ilManila Chronicle, 18 Dec. 1969, p. 14; 22 Dec. 1969, p. 1; 1 Jan. 1970, p. 12; 21 Jan. 1970, p. 1;

3 Feb. 1970, p. 1.32Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics, p. 233-34.


officers, and policemen to take the governorship one way or another. But a volunteermovement "to keep watch over the polls in all precincts" made the counting andreporting process honest, allowing Farinas to win.33

These small examples reveal people trying to preserve or create some integrity andhonesty in elections and turn them into expressions of actual sentiments or evalua-tions of candidates and issues. In so doing, they engage and oppose those who havedifferent, often sinister understandings of what elections are about. From time totime, these conflicting views of elections burst onto the national scene as majorconfrontations.

One important period was the elections in 1951 (for congressional and lower offices)and 1953 (which featured a presidential election as well). They followed 1947 and 1949elections (the latter also for the presidency), which were probably among the mostsordid and foul in the country's history. Incumbents brazenly used their offices, thepolice, and the Philippine Constabulary to muscle and finagle their way to re-election.By 1951, many people were girding for even worse elections, despite electoral and otherreforms in the interim aimed at trying to prevent a re-occurrence. Some Filipinos wereso disgusted and dubious that the elections could be anything other than totally cor-rupt that they boycotted the elections and urged others to do likewise.

Other people, however, went the opposite direction, throwing themselves into astruggle to prevent a repeat of 1947 and 1949. They reported to officials and the presscases of intimidation and violence, insisted on protecting polling stations againstmanipulation, monitored the counting of votes, publicized names of candidates andothers who violated the rules, guarded ballot boxes, and often stood their groundagainst armed authorities who tried to scare them off. These widespread activities,coupled with improved media coverage and electoral reforms, contributed to makingthe 1951 and 1953 elections far cleaner than before. The most well-known among themany organizations pressing for honest elections was the National Movement for FreeElections (NAMFREL), established in mid 1951. Even many remote villages hadNAMFREL chapters to help make the voting, tallying, and reporting that year surpris-ingly fair and peaceful. This was repeated in 1953 as even more people got involvedin NAMFREL to democratize the election process. In both years, numerous otherorganizations also were active.

Both 1951 and 1953 show determination among a wide spectrum of the populationto make elections a major issue. Would elections be, as in the 1940s, largely a demo-cratic facade behind which people are coerced, intimidated, and abused, and ballotsare treated cavalierly? Or would there be substance to the democratic appearances?Put simply, would the country live up to the rhetoric, which nearly every leaderespoused but too few practised, of free, open, honest elections? Many organizationsand individuals were pressing for a "yes" answer to these last two questions.

In 1986, a similar crisis over elections reached a crescendo, loosely referred to asthe "people power revolution" which forced Ferdinand Marcos's authoritarian regimeto fall. Not for a minute would I claim that this event was only about the meaningand purpose of elections. The dynamics of that year and events leading up to it werecomplex and their significance multifaceted. A credible argument could be made that

33Zialcita, "Perspectives on Legitimacy", p. 281-82.


1986 included a confrontation between competing clusters of elites — the Marcosclique opposed by elite leaders coalesced by their determination to stop the Marcosdynasty and joined in the final hours by prominent Marcos supporters who defected.34

And as indicated earlier, certainly for many the election was about economic andpolitical issues. Clientelism, factionalism, personal relations, regionalism, and otherfactors also influenced many people's votes and understanding of what the electionwas about.

These lines of analysis, however revealing, leave out a vital dynamic. For millionsof Filipinos the 1985-86 campaign was also a struggle to make elections an expressionof people's views and desires for their country. They were determined to bring thevoting process in line with the rhetoric that elections should be free of coercion, in-timidation, cheating, and fraud. They sought to make this election a method by whichthe majority could decide what person and what kind of government was better forthe country. The differences between Marcos and Aquino and what they representedwere striking, certainly more so than in most national elections (in the Philippines —or elsewhere, come to think of it). Closely related were the strong feelings across awide spectrum of the country that the government had to change lest already terribleconditions become much worse and, especially, lest civil war, already pronounced innumerous areas, would spread. Or, an equally unpleasant alternative, many Filipinosfeared that the military would forcefully topple the Marcos government and establisha military regime. For millions of anxious Filipinos, the 1986 election was the bestchance, perhaps the last chance, to change peacefully (for the better they hoped) whorules and how.35 A key question for many Filipinos was would the 1986 election bemanipulated and subverted by Marcos and his political machine or would it be a morecredible and democratic process? Millions of people were determined to make sure itwould be the latter.

Two Filipinos, who had for years been active in anti-martial law and anti-Marcosstruggles and, like many in their situation, were highly sceptical of elections and hadconsidered boycotting the 1986 one, nevertheless opted instead for "critical participa-tion". Seeing how people threw themselves into trying to make the election authenticwas for them a real eye-opener. They wrote:

The whole experience . . . has been a humbling one for organizers like us. In thescenario building efforts, the external factors were all predicted but the people'sresponse was not foreseen. I think it is because we [organizers] get lost in our

34Symbolic of this elite alliance in opposition to Marcos regime was the "Facilitator Group", "ConvenorGroup", and "Potential Standard Bearers" — a "Who's Who" of the business and political elite not holdingnational government office — that emerged in 1984 then merged together later during that year and outof which in 1985 came the candidacies of Corazon Aquino and Salvador Laurel. (Ma. Serena I. Diokno,"Unity and Struggle", in Dictatorship and Revolution, pp. 152-55.)

35A sense of this mood is conveyed in an interview with Cecilia Munoz Palma, a former SupremeCourt justice who was active in political organizations opposing Marcos. [Paulynn P. Sicam, "Interview: CeciliaMunoz Palma", National Midweek (11 December 1985): 6-10.] Also see Ruben Canoy, The CounterfeitRevolution: Martial Law in the Philippines (Manila: Philippine Elections, 1980), pp. 248-50. Many peopleI met in 1985 in Manila and rural areas were terribly worried about spreading civil war and hoped that apeaceful election would reverse that trend. The importance of the election and the seriousness with whichmany ordinary citizens regarded it are conveyed in a marvellous film directed by Gary Kildea about villagersin Bukidnon province. (Gary Kildea, "Valencia Diary". Film/Video. Two hours. 1992.)

412 Benedict J. Ttia Kerkvliet

own agenda and fail to listen to our own people and heed the signs, the mode ofpolitical participation they are most comfortable in — the non-violent way.

The [political] revolution has clearly advanced the struggle of the Filipinos fora more just and democratic society; it has given people a sharp and refreshing senseof the oft quoted cliche - sovereignty belongs to the people — for in the end, itboils down to one thing — we refused to be duped once more, to be dictatedupon and to have the truth mangled.36

Politicians

Many politicians in the Philippines do seem to fit within the pcf framework —essentially preoccupied with personal power and promoting their own interests andthose of their followers. Add to that the use of public office for self enrichment andthuggery of warlords and private armies emphasized in elite democracy school ofanalysis, one would have reason to think virtually no politicians in the country areconcerned with anything having to do with policy issues, public interests, or politicalideals. The billions of dollars stolen by Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos and colleaguesin public office from the late 1960s to mid 1980s seem to many observers inside andoutside the Philippines to be grotesquely magnified versions of what is common prac-tice among the country's politicians.

Is it enough to leave explanations of politicians' behaviour at that? Are ideas, ideals,values, and concerns beyond personal power and wealth really of no or minisculeconcern to politicians in the Philippines? It is difficult to answer "yes". Too manypeople in public positions come to mind for whom these characterizations are notonly inappropriate but unfair, stripping these public figures of laudable dimensionsof their personalities and political work. This is not to say that they are totally altruisticor selfless, free of playing factional politics, or unexperienced in playing personalfavourites. But at the same time, other ideas and values are important to them.

Examples of national politicians of this kind in recent years could include JoseDiokno, Raul Manglapus, Jovito Salonga and Lorenzo M. Tanada. Many Filipinos,I suspect, would readily agree that these four senators, each elected more than onceby national electorates, were politicians that do not fit the pcf stereotype. Yet they andothers like them get little attention from academics.37 No doubt they engaged inpatron-client and factional politics during their many years of public service andnumerous election campaigns. But to leave their political behaviour at that would bea gross misrepresentation of their careers. They were also animated by human rights,public policy issues, significant legal questions, and philosophical dilemmas. Theywere not bought or manipulated men; nor were they apparently forever scheming howto buy and manipulate others. Debate, arguments, principles, and the public good mat-tered to them. All have been described as nationalists for arguing vigorously in favourof a Philippines independent of foreign involvement, especially from the United States.During martial law years, all could probably have become prominent in the Marcosregime; they at least could have kept their heads down and avoided clashing with thatgovernment. Instead, all were deeply involved in opposing Marcos and his form of rule.

36Personal correspondence from Dinky and Hec Soliman, 11 March 1986.37Though my search has not yet been comprehensive, I have thus far been unable to locate a scholarly

analysis of any of these four politicians.


Politicians like them have appeared not only recently or only on the national scene.There have been others in the past and in local public offices. Because even less issaid about them, I would like to highlight here two such public servants.

One is Pedro Abad Santos, who was first elected to Philippine National Assemblyin 1916 and served two terms until 1923.38 No doubt he too was involved in personalfactions and alliances, but like the senators mentioned above, other, broader, lessimmediately personal interests also stirred him. Abad Santos had fought in the revolu-tion against Spain and subsequently against the United States until he was arrestedand nearly executed. After being released from prison he resumed pressing nationalistideals. He reportedly broke with his long-time friend Manuel Quezon, then a leadingfigure in the Assembly, over issues regarding Philippine independence. As a legislatorhe also opposed a head tax, supported women's suffrage, and favoured the legalizationof divorce. So far as is known, he viewed public office as a place for giving publicservice, not for seeking self promotion or enrichment. Indeed, though the son of awealthy landed family and once accustomed to plush surroundings, he chose a ratherascetic life during the 1920s and throughout the 1930s, when he was deeply involvedin political activities pressing for improved rural conditions in central Luzon, especiallyin his home province of Pampanga.

Why he turned to this cause is not clear. Part of the answer is a combination ofhis growing personal disgust with the arrogance of the wealthy toward the poor andhis reading of Marx and other socialist writers from Europe and the United States.He may also have been influenced by the agrarian revolution brewing in China in the1930s. In any event, his modest house in Pampanga became a centre for political workpressing for social and economic improvement of rural families. He was a leader inthe province's largest labour organization Aguman ding Talapagobra (General Workers'Union) whose members were primarily workers on sugarcane plantations. He alsofounded the Socialist party in 1931 and was a prominent figure in the Popular Frontparty, a coalition of peasant, worker, and other cause-oriented organizations that rancandidates for municipal and provincial offices in Pampanga and nearby provinces inthe 1930s. Abad Santos himself was a candidate for governor on the Popular Frontticket twice in the 1930s, running strongly on a platform that called for agrarianreform, better conditions for workers, and clean elections. He nearly won in the 1940election, the year in which nine Popular Front candidates won mayorships in nine ofPampanga's twenty-one municipalities. In 1942 he was one of numerous outspokenopponents of the Japanese military regime, which in turn arrested and then executed him.

The Popular Front mayors allied with Abad Santos were also likely motivated byissues and ideals rather than, or along with, personal advancement. My hunch is thatresidents of any part of the country could readily name local politicians of this kind.Certainly in San Ricardo and neighbouring villages I know in Nueva Ecija, residentscan identify public office holders who do not fit the image conveyed by the pcfframework. One is Manuela Santa Ana Maclang.

38This and the next paragraph are based on John A. Larkin, Sugar and the Origins of Modern Philip-pine Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), pp. 196-200; Antonio S. Tan, T h e Ideologyof Pedro Abad Santos' Socialist Party" (Quezon City: Occasional Paper, Asian Center, University of thePhilippines, 1984); Benedict J. Kerkvliet, "Peasant Rebellion in the Philippines" (Ph.D. diss., University ofWisconsin, Madison, 1972), pp. 139-55; and Kerkvliet, Huk Rebellion, pp. 52-53.


Her first campaign for a seat on the municipal council in Talavera, Nueva Ecija,was in 1955. She was 31 years old, living in the village of San Ricardo where she hadbeen born and raised, the daughter of poor peasant family. (Her father, Amando, hadbeen a local peasant leader in the 1930s and was killed in 1944 in an battle betweenJapanese forces and a local group of the Hukbalahap guerrillas.) She won an over-whelming majority of votes in 1955, becoming the first woman in the municipality toserve as a council member. Four years later she tried, but failed, to become Talavera'svice mayor. That was the last of her electoral politics until 1987. In the interim, besidesraising two children largely as a single parent (her husband, a Communist party leader,having been in prison for nearly 30 years on charges of subversion) and earning anincome by various means — from working in rice fields to selling insurance door todoor in Nueva Ecija towns and villages — she was active in numerous organizationspressing for agrarian reform and other peasant causes, including playing a leading rolein the establishment of a marketing cooperative among rice farmers in the vicinity ofSan Ricardo. In 1987, in the first local elections following the end of the Marcos rule,she again successfully ran for a seat on Talavera's municipal council, a position shestill held when I last met her in January 1994.

Like anyone who is well known in the area, Santa Ana Maclang has a network ofpersonal relationships, some of which probably are helpful in helping her win elections.But she is not preoccupied with building those networks and engaging in factionalpolitics. The way she goes about her work as a councillor, cooperative leader, andactivist in numerous causes readily conveys her deep involvement in issues bearing onland tenure, employment, health care, farm-gate prices for small rice growers, andnumerous other problems that concern average villagers. Over the decades she hascrossed and stood up to many large landowners, Constabulary officers, and otherswith more "clout" than she has. She has also disagreed with and had disputes withother peasant activists and leaders in San Ricardo and elsewhere in the province. Sheis an opinionated, strong willed person. She wins local elections, according to whatpeople tell me and what I have observed, not so much because she is popular or hasmany contacts, friendships, and other personal linkages, rather more because she iswidely respected and trusted as a person of considerable integrity and commitment tobeing decent, fair, and public (not self) serving.

It is possible that the politicians cited in this section are truly exceptional. Even ifthey are, they still need to be accounted for and acknowledged, which the pcf frame-work and elite democracy and dependency alternatives do not. I suspect, however,that while most politicians may not be as admirable as these, a significant percentageare motivated in part by the kind of values and ideas that are striking in theseexamples. That is, the concerns of politicians are considerably more diverse than thoseemphasized in pcf, elite democracy, and dependency analyses.

Political Movements

This and the next section look at political areas other than elections and peopleholding public office. There are several possible realms to select from. One couldlook at the politics of institutions, such as universities, churches, bureaucracies, or themilitary; or at social and professional associations, like the Knights of Columbus,Masonic lodges, Philippine Mechanical Engineers Association, or Philippine Medical


Association. If my argument is valid, then one would find in each of them a blendof values and ideas, bases of organization, and cleavages that fall within and outsidea pcf framework. A quick example is the Philippine Catholic church. Several studiesindicate that for decades politics within this organization has been richly textured byconflicts over profoundly political values and choices associated with issues rangingfrom supporting the Communist party to birth control.39 A pcf analysis, even one sup-plemented with dependency and elite democracy approaches, would be woefully inade-quate as a framework for analyzing politics in these institutions.

I cannot go further into institutional politics here. Instead, I will consider aspectsof what might broadly be called "political movements" in the Philippines. Among themovements one could discuss are those involving students, women, Muslims, radicals(associated, for instance, with Communist parties in the country), and workers. Thereis a secondary literature for each, though it is sparse and much more research needsto be done. One could not adequately analyse these movements using a pcf framework.Too many dimensions would not fit. Matters highlighted by the pcf framework arepresent, but form only part of the story.

Take the workers' movement, briefly. The history of labour federations and unionsis laced with alliances and animosities among individual leaders, personal jealousies,and factional rivalries. And one can find numerous examples of labour leaders whoseegos and personal ambitions far overshadowed their concern for championing thecauses of working class men and women. But leaving the analysis there would be toleave out the numerous economic, social, and political issues that also motivate andmobilize union members and leaders, including sharp debates within the movement'sunions and federations over strategies, tactics, and goals.40 Moreover, the history ofconfrontation between organized workers and their employers is clear evidence that apcf framework depiction of no class or social antagonism is erroneous.

Proof of sharp social conflict is also evident in the radical movement associatedwith Communist parties, armed rebellions, and protracted guerrilla warfare during muchof this century. Only in a very limited way does the pcf framework help to explainaspects of that political history. Consider, for instance, the current splits within theCommunist Party of the Philippines (CPP).41 From a pcf perspective, one could arguethat the party is but another example of a Filipino organization that cannot sustainleadership transitions without splintering and factionalizing on account of personalvindictiveness and envy among egotistical leaders, each charging the others with abus-ing their positions of authority for personal gain and glory. There are grounds to sup-port this interpretation. But as important, if not more so, is the evidence for deep,long-smouldering debates and discords within the party over a range of major political

39See, for example, Robert Youngblood, Marcos Against the Church: Economic Development andPolitical Repression in the Philippines (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990); Wilfredo Fabros, The Churchand Its Social Involvement in the Philippines, 1930-1972 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press,1988); and Pasquale T. Giordano, Awakening to Mission: The Philippine Catholic Church 1965-1981 (QuezonCity: New Day Publishers, 1988).

"•"Melinda THa Kerkvliet, Manila Workers' Unions, 1900-1950 (Quezon City: New Day, 1992).4lThe following discussion is based on interviews with people close to the movement, Metro Manila,

January 1994, articles in Kasarinlan, 1992-93, and the collection of Communist Party and New People'sArmy documents, Malalimang Pagsusuri at Pagpapabagong-sigla/Profound Re-examination and Revitaliza-tion (Metro Manila, circa 1993).


questions. Among them are the role of urban insurrection, whether to tolerate orencourage peaceful rather than armed struggle, suitable forms of military organiza-tion, legitimate authority relationships within the party, and proper relations betweenthe CPP and organizations allied with it.

The movement I can say most about involves peasant and other rural workerorganizations. Thinking about Philippine politics within a pcf framework, one couldnot imagine the streams, even torrents of rural organizations that have promoted arange of issues and causes generally aimed at trying to improve economic, political,and social conditions in the countryside. Yet this is precisely what the Philippines hashad in the twentieth century. Thousands of small organizations of villagers havepressured local landowners and government officials to take their complaints seriouslyand numerous large regional and national federations and associations of peasant andagricultural workers have pushed for agrarian reforms and other policies. Several violentpeasant uprisings have also occurred; some of them have grown into rural-basedrebellions and revolutionary armies that have threatened to topple the state.

The history of peasant organization, discontent, and occasional rebellion is, in part,a history of conflict between the poor and the better off, peasants and landlords,masses and elites — precisely the cleavages that a pcf framework cannot accommodate.Similarly, that framework would not comprehend numerous political questions at thecenter of the peasant movement: demands for better tenancy arrangements, higherwages, decent living conditions, land redistribution, cheap credit, lower fertiliser prices,fair rice prices, and many more. One cannot understand the politics of peasant andagricultural worker organizations, whether small or large, without including suchissues and questions in one's analysis. Nor can one comprehend the threat that ruralpeople have posed to large landowners, sugar central owners, government officials,and other powerful interests who very often resorted to violence and other repressionin an effort to silence peasant organizations. Recall, for example, that the PambansangKaisahan ng mga Magbubukid (PKM, National Peasants Union), a mid-194Os organiza-tion with 500,000 members, most of them in central Luzon, went into oblivion not forwant of support from peasants but because landlord armies and government troopskilled leaders and members and drove underground many of the rest. The MalayangSamahang Magsasaka (MASAKA, Free Association of Peasants), formed in the early1960s to pressure the state to implement agrarian reform, collapsed not merely becauseof factionalism and personal rivalries within the organization — though those existedand became serious in the late 1960s — but also because the Marcos regime, whenimposing martial law, raided its offices and harassed and arrested many membersand leaders.

A look at two recent peasant-oriented organizations that have had some seriousinternal conflicts is a useful way to illustrate briefly the limitations of a pcf approach.42

The two are Congress for People's Agrarian Reform (CPAR) and Kilusang Magbubukidng Pilipinas (KMP, Peasant Movement of the Philippines). CPAR began in 1987 asan alliance among several peasant organizations (one of them being KMP) to campaign

42This discussion is based on conversations during December 1993 and January 1994 with six peopleinvolved in these two organizations.


for a more encompassing agrarian reform programme than the Aquino governmentwas proposing. It became an effective advocate for agrarian reform and related con-cerns of its member organizations. But in 1993, it dissolved after several months ofinternal disagreements. The KMP, founded in 1985, had grown by the early 1990s intoone of the country's largest peasant associations with chapters and affiliated groupsin several provinces. But it also had many internal problems and in 1993 split intotwo organizations. Difficulties in each case included personal rivalries, suspicions,intrigues, and other features of factional politics corresponding to a pcf analysis.Regarding the KMP, clashing egos of national leaders figured in the organization'sbreakup. Jaime Tadeo was its founding chairperson and had served in that positionuntil being sentenced to a prison term in 1990. Rafael Mariano, who had been a vice-chairperson, then became the new chair. After being released in August 1993, Tadeoapparently expected to become again the chairperson but he was rebuffed by Marianoand others in the national council. Shortly after that, Tadeo and other national councilmembers said to be loyal to him formed a new organization, the Democratic KMP(DKMP). This and related evidence, including charges and counter-charges betweenthe two sides about misuse of KMP funds, could be woven into an analysis showingthat the KMP split along fault lines created by personal rivalries between two leaders,each with his own set of followers. In other words, the organization was factionalizedvery much as a pcf framework would lead one to expect and could explain. A similarexplanation could be made about CPAR. Leaders of some of the member organiza-tions intimated that CPAR's secretariat, based in Quezon City, and its director, DinkySoliman, were intruding on these leaders' turf, depriving these leaders and their organiza-tions of possible funding from foundation donors, and skimming money for personaluse — charges the secretariat and Soliman denied.

While such elements fitting a pcf analysis are evident, they do not do justice tothe complex reasons for what happened to the two organizations. Vital to under-standing the outcomes are long-standing arguments over strategies, tactics, and othersubstantive issues central to the purpose and meaning of each organization. To someextent, these issues are even entwined with the personal antagonisms in that individualsbecame identified with various conflicting positions. In the KMP a strenuous debate,dating from the late 1980s, regarding its relationship with the CPP ultimately con-tributed to the split. Leaders Mariano and Tadeo had gravitated to opposite positionson the issue. That debate generated several others as the CPP itself became deeply dividedalong a range of vital questions. CPAR's own fate was affected by the divisions withinthe KMP. And differences among CPAR's member organizations also contributed toits dissolution. For instance, some of those organizations wanted to get involved inthe 1992 elections while others did not. Those that did could not agree on whichcandidates for president and other national offices would better serve their peasantmemberships. And after the elections they disagreed on the extent to which they shouldwork with or oppose the new Ramos government on agrarian reform matters. Perhapsthe most exhausting debates were about numerous proposals and revised proposals forhow to reorganise CPAR. Wrestling with these and other problems from 1991 onwards,CPAR was able to reach satisfactory solutions to some but not to all. Ultimately themember organizations decided to disband and go their separate ways.

While my discussion of political movements is by no means exhaustive, it substan-tiates the main point that analyzing them requires more than a pcf framework.


Everyday Politics

Another political realm is the vast, generally unorganized and informal discourseand activity of everyday politics where people come to terms with and/or contestnorms and rules regarding authority, production, and the allocation of resources.Examining that terrain through only a pcf looking glass would overlook a great dealof interesting behaviour and thinking.

Illustrative is research by Michael Pinches in Tatalon, a Quezon City neighbourhoodcomposed mainly of poor people. There he finds a " . . . principle line of tension thatruns through thought and action . . . , namely the tension between accommodationand resistance to the prevailing social order".43 Accommodation by poor Tatalonresidents includes a range of activities, especially making ties to employers, wealthierneighbours, and other people in positions potentially of use to them inside and beyondTatalon. Being in relatively disadvantageous positions socially, politically, and econo-mically, these people nurture as best they can webs of relationships reaching upwardinto higher, more secure strata in the hope of being able to use those connections intime of need. They are clients to a series of patrons, proof that the pcf frameworkrepresents a Philippine reality. But there is more. Poor residents also are critical ofhow people above them in the social hierarchy treat and regard them. They carryaround considerable resentment and hostility toward those with power over them.Being rather vulnerable, however, they rarely openly express those views, especially inthe presence of the very people whom they resent. And when they do, they are likelyto be guarded about it. A delightful example conveyed by Pinches occurred at a publicmeeting when the Marcos regime was still in power. Imelda Marcos had been boastingabout her compassion for the poor and pledged to give squatters in Tatalon theirland, at which point a man in the crowd held up a small pot of soil and shouted"one pot of land", indirectly mocking the First Lady.44 Such animosity would notsquare with a pcf portrayal of smooth, harmonious relations between elite and non-elite people.

My research in San Ricardo, Nueva Ecija, also reveals that a major feature of every-day politics is cooperation and conflict among people in different classes and statusesabout such matters as land, employment, working conditions, prices, opportunitiesfor life improvement, and government opportunities.45 Understanding politics in thisCentral Luzon village requires examining both horizontal and vertical alignments andantagonisms. Patron-client relations and other vertical ties among unequals are withoutdoubt important, but they are not the full range of interaction. Besides the makingand nurturing of patron-client ties, everyday politics includes considerable resistanceby subordinate villagers against the claims on them by wealthier people, capitalists,and the government and their struggle to claim what they believe should be theirs. Asin Tatalon, such resistance in San Ricardo is often indirect, nonconfrontational, andhidden.

43Pinches, "Working Class Experience", p. 183."Ibid., p. 176.45Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics.


Conclusion

Scholars do — and should — recognize the usefulness of the patron-client, factionalframework. Also helpful are the arguments of elite democracy and dependency analysesregarding the presence of violence, greed, self-serving elites, and imperialism in Philip-pine politics. But we who study the Philippines should not limit our analyses to thefeatures on which these approaches dwell. Much more is happening than they canaccommodate. All the domains of political life discussed in this article — elections,politicians, political movements, and everyday politics — include values and ideas,cleavages, and associations that are not explained and scarcely recognized by patron-client, factional analysis. Politics in the Philippines cannot accurately be reduced topolitics of personal relationships, and ambitions. However important those are, prin-ciples, beliefs about what is best for a constituency or a class of people or a nation,assessments of what is right or wrong beyond the personal, and many other considera-tions are also pervasive. And relations between classes and status groups, contrary tothe pcf framework, are not necessarily harmonious and devoid of significant conflict.They may be, but they may instead be conflictual, and often they are both.

Perhaps someone can eventually bring together into one, all-encompassing frame-work patron-client analysis, factionalism, political economy, class analysis, feministanalysis, post-modernism, and other approaches required to have a comprehensiveunderstanding of Philippine politics. Then again, maybe that is not desirable. Onereason the pcf framework has been so influential on scholarship — besides it sheddinglight on certain aspects of political life — is that it was readily available for analyststo use. Rather than figuring out for themselves an understanding of Philippine politics,many researchers have reached for a pcf approach, perhaps supplemented by an elitedemocracy interpretation, to bring order to the collage of material, leaving aside what-ever did not fit. A new totalizing framework could have similar consequences.

Exclusions and distortions are inevitable, no matter how comprehensive the analysis.Much in life eludes synthesis, though some syntheses are more inclusive and elegantthan others. Rather than analysts now spending inordinate amounts of time and energydebating which single approach is best or how to combine many or all into one, itwould be more productive to examine Philippine politics carefully while bearing inmind all or as many available interpretations and approaches as possible and remain-ing open to being surprised by findings that do not fit any of them. A scholar canthen put forward an analysis in the spirit of struggling to gain greater insight andappreciation for what is going on without claiming that the particular framework usedor argument made captures the essence of the entire society. One can be vigorous inarguing for the utility of one or a combination of approaches while at the same timeacknowledging that other interpretations are plausible. Deep research on Philippinepolitics is still scarce. A great deal more should be done across an array of politicallife — not just elections, political parties, and other conventional aspects of the land-scape but also domains such as non-government institutions and organizations, politicalmovements, and everyday politics. I would favour proceeding with that research in themanner just mentioned rather than insisting now on one approach to replace the oncedominant patron-client, factional framework.

kerkvliet beyond patron client

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